The Enforcement Agent
by Lucretia Skelington
Summary: Chapter 3 up. President Roslin and Commander Adama need someone to head the new Enforcement Division, and Lt. Martin Castillo is their man. Rated Teen to be safe. INCOMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

The Enforcement Agent

Chapter 1

_I do not own anything to do with Battlestar Galactica or Miami Vice. This is an amateur work and I derive no profit from it and intend no rights infringements._

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__This is obviously set in an alternate universe and early on in the series. This is an incomplete work and I have no idea if/when it will ever be completed._ _

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"It is __very_ troubling." 

Laura Roslin set her glass of water on the low table before her, careful to keep it away from the books scattered across its surface. She could not recall a time she had been in Commander Adama's quarters when there had not been old volumes stacked on the table, or even cluttering the couch. She smiled, despite the subject they'd been discussing. The commander, on the surface a tough military veteran, had his soft side and it had been her privilege to catch a glimpse of the hidden Adama here and there during the times they'd spent working out solutions to problems or, all too often, arguing heatedly. In different circumstances…

"An understatement, Madam President."

She used to think he was mocking her when he called her that, but she had recently come to understand he was not. It was his way of showing deference; it was his way of keeping their relationship clear. At times, she wished they could skip the formalities, but was afraid of where that might lead. His respect was a gift she could not bear to lose, and there were days when she her sanity depended on having a friend to confide in, as well as a peer who understood.

Of the almost fifty thousand souls left alive after the Cylon attack, only Commander William Adama, the ranking military member thrust into command of the fleet after the Cylon's devastating attack on the Twelve Colonies, could comprehend the pressures she endured. From her recent personal experience, she in turn identified with the tremendous weight on his shoulders. Forty-third on the list to become President in the event of the unthinkable, Laura Roslin had found herself taking the oath of office in a crowded transport ship, barely able to control the shaking of her hands.

Among his senior staff, there might be one or two officers who had an inkling of the burden Adama bore, but only from an outside, operational point of view. She doubted very much if even the Commander's son, Capt. Lee Adama, truly appreciated the burden his father carried…and how much the fleet owed to his father.

There was no other person she could confide in and be certain they could cope with the issues, no matter how disturbing they might be. Adama listened attentively, usually without emotionally charged reactions. He offered advice at times or simply asked questions that made her think. On the occasions they had disagreed heatedly, Adama had not hesitated to later admit when she was right and he was wrong. With that, he had earned her trust. He had also earned her respect and she took his suggestions seriously.

"A formal police force is necessary." He looked at the water in his glass and she waited. "I don't like my men being used to regulate civilian affairs."

"I know, Commander, but I would like to say your men have performed admirably and we are extremely grateful," Roslin replied. He had objected strongly to her request and her insistence was why Adama agreed to allow his troops as enforcement.

He nodded, accepting her thanks. "Where did you find this man?"

"I had Billy send out a survey to all ships asking about everyone's professions, skills, and so on. It's been an invaluable resource for us. On his ship's manifest, the captain noted that one of his passengers was an Enforcement agent."

He nodded again and gave her one of those half smiles that said he was impressed. She looked away, fiddling with her glass, hoping she had not blushed.

"I instructed Gaeta to bring the Lieutenant here when he arrives. You have spoken with him, already?" he asked, getting up for more to drink. He lifted the carafe, his raised eyebrow questioning. She shook her head, her auburn hair brushing her shoulders.

"No, he was always unavailable and never returned my calls over the past few weeks- although he did come to Colonial One once while I was away. He didn't leave a message- he just came then left." Roslin sounded a bit perturbed. "His ship is a small private cruiser -the Lancer- and my pilot said they docked due to an emergency. It was damaged during one of the earlier Cylon attacks. "

She paused, blinking quickly, remembering the report Billy had given her in the harrowing days of their flight from Caprica. After a moment, she continued, softly. "The Lancer was carrying a group of young children who'd been removed from Alram."

"Alram?" Shocked, Adama jerked around to face her and frowned. As a battlestar commander, he had little to do with the enforcement of Colonial law other than to render support should an agency call upon the military for assistance -and that rarely happened. But, he was privy to the security briefings the Colonial Department of Justice issued and in all honesty, he was glad he'd never been ordered into the sector.

Alram, at the most outer edge of the Colonial space, was known for it's total disregard for Colonial law. Fully two-thirds of the smuggling, thievery, prostitution, gambling, illicit drugs, and other vices plaguing the Colonies were controlled from deep within the nebula. This natural shield kept out unwanted visitors and severely limited any surveillance from afar.

If the harsh location wasn't sufficient, the fierce fighting between the embedded factions was enough to discourage any outsiders from venturing in. A perpetual power struggle raged deep in the quadrant of glowing plasma and leaders rose and fell as fast as loyalties shifted. He knew of no mission that had infiltrated the region and returned. He knew, however, of several dozen that had failed. Alram was a law and world unto itself.

From what he'd heard, regional Colonial leaders were often suspected of connected to Alram by providing financial support, directing activity from outside, or by taking payoffs in exchange for looking the other way. When the outcry from citizens became too loud, law agencies sent units to the sector and a show was made of raids on ships carrying smuggled goods. They might slow the illegal activities for a short while, but they never stemmed the flow of drugs and contraband from the area.

Adama pulled his attention back to Roslin and walked slowly back to where they were sitting as she continued.

"All but five of the children died when their compartment partially decompressed and the ship lost all but one of her crew. The lieutenant has been filling in, helping the first officer- the new captain- keep everything under control. Seems the lieutenant is ex-military, so had some flight training." Laura paused, thinking the commander was going to comment, but when he didn't, she continued. "Perhaps that is why he has not contacted me, other than acknowledging our request for this meeting."

Adama's eyebrows lifted slightly and he wondered why the man had not answered the Galactica's call for those with flight experience. Weary from spending much of the night in the CIC and the morning in meetings with his staff, he sank into the comfort of his couch. Rank _did_ have its privileges, and his quarters were evidence of that. "He agreed to take the position?"

"No, but I didn't mention it in my message, I asked only for a meeting. And, no- I don't know anything more about him than what I've told you." With a satisfied smile at the commander's expression, Roslin sipped her water.

Adama pressed his lips together and twirled the water in his glass. He hated when she anticipated his next question. _Simply following the logical train of conversation_, he told himself, but it felt as if she was reading his mind…and William Adama let no one inside his thoughts. No one.

Laura Roslin had surprised him. During a time when most people would have fallen apart, she'd shown leadership and decisiveness. Moreover, she'd shown courage; she had stood up to him several times…and had been right.

He'd never met anyone like her.

He knew little of Roslin beyond the official blurb on the ceremony program when the Galactica was turned over to the Department of Educational Services for use as a museum. His gut still tightened at the thought. The Galactic had been deemed a relic, a simplistic fossil useful only for sightseers looking for a glimpse of how the Fleet had moved backwards in technology. The visitors would have glanced over the display cases with half an interest and bought souvenir t-shirts and key rings all the while unaware of the heroic efforts that had taken place on her decks.

Now, Galactica was the only one left, her sophisticated sisters felled by their very complexity and progress.

His phone buzzed and he reached behind him to answer. After listening for a short moment, he thanked the caller and replaced the set.

"We'll soon find out more. The Lancer is in Hanger One and he's on his way." He reached for a folder and handed it to her. "In the meantime, perhaps you might wish to see our readiness figures…"

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on his bulkhead.

"Come," Adama called. He set his drink down as the door opened and Lt. Gaeta entered, followed by another man, several hesitant paces behind.

"Sir," Gaeta said, "this is Lt. Martin Castillo.


	2. Chapter 2

_I own nothing to do with Miami Vice or Battlestar Galactica, except DVD sets, and make no money or profit from this._

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The Enforcement Agent 

Chapter 2

Adama stood at Gaeta's announcement and watched as slim man, about his own height, stepped into the room. Slightly long and unruly, the man's hair was dark, as was his full mustache, and he was dressed in utility black pants, jacket, and boots. About thirty-five to forty years old, the man's movements were smooth and tightly controlled.

Slowly, Castillo came to stand at a point halfway across the room from the door, arms relaxed by his side, a scant majority of his weight on his back foot, and with his body at a slight angle to them. It was a defensive stance, but those without any martial training would not recognize it as such. Adama knew the position well.

Civilians, when called to a meeting with himself and the president, were usually nervous or excited- at the very least, they appeared impressed. Castillo, however, simply stood, waiting. There was no expression on his face- no awe, no curiosity, no annoyance…nothing. Any emotions he might be experiencing were carefully concealed.

The man's head turned only slightly, but Adama knew that Castillo's quick glance around his quarters had taken in more information than most people would after several minute's worth of studying the room. Lt. Castillo was no ordinary Enforcement agent.

"Welcome to the Galactica, Lieutenant," Adama began. The man's head snapped around and the commander found himself pinned by a dagger-sharp stare from the darkest eyes he'd ever seen. He forced himself to shake off his unease. "I'd like to introduce President Laura Roslin."

Laura stood and smiled somewhat shakily. "I am pleased to meet you, Lt. Castillo. We thank you for coming here to meet with us."

For a long moment, Castillo did not answer. Out of the corner of his eye, Adama saw Roslin glance nervously at him, then back to the lieutenant.

"Madam President, Commander," Castillo replied, then fell silent.

Adama gestured to a nearby chair and then sat down. "Please, have a seat." He nodded a dismissal to Gaeta, who left with a worried backward glance at the visitor.

Cautiously, Castillo moved toward them, his gaze flicking to the open doorways and darker corners of the room, then lingering on the antique weapons mounted on the wall behind the couch. His manner was not one of fear, but that of a man who trusted no one and used to assessing every situation thoroughly as if his life depended on it.

With the president's security team outside his quarters and the Galactica's own arrangements for protection of their commander, Castillo was in what was undoubtedly the most secure room in the entire fleet, yet he acted as if there were dangers hiding in the shadows. _What nightmarish work had the lieutenant been involved in?_

Castillo moved the chair so that his back was to a wall before sitting. The black eyes turned on Adama, then the president. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes." Laura cleared her throat. "Yes, we do. Lt. Castillo, we are interested in the fact that you are an Enforcement agent."

Castillo said nothing.

"You _are_ an agent, are you not?" she asked after it was apparent he was not going to respond.

Castillo stared, his gaze hardening.

Adama shifted in his seat. "Lieutenant, the captain of the Lancer indicated you were an Enforcement agent, and to the best of our knowledge you are the highest ranking law officer we have in the fleet. With the situation as it is, we need the assistance of _all_ qualified persons if we are to survive."

Adama held Castillo's gaze, his own force of will coming to the fore.

"Until now," he continued, "my troops have provided what security has been needed for the civilians. For several reasons you can surely understand, this is unacceptable."

The lieutenant nodded slightly in agreement. Encouraged, Laura spoke again.

"We would like to learn about your areas of expertise and what suggestions you could offer. Would you mind telling Commander Adama and me about your past assignments or experiences, Lt. Castillo?" she asked softly. "It will go no further than this room."

Unmoving, Castillo sat stiffly on the chair's edge. When he finally spoke, there was bitterness in his words. "Not that it would matter anymore."

"Still, we will respect the confidences you share." She glanced at Adama. "The commander and I fully realize the need to keep certain knowledge from the public."

Castillo looked away then took a deep breath, as if letting a weight slide from his shoulders. In that moment, Adama knew the lieutenant had decided to trust them- to a small degree, at least. Castillo returned his dark gaze to Roslin, then Adama, but it was no longer shadowed by suspicion, only caution.

"I am…I was assigned to the Vice Force of the Colonial Department of Intelligence. I headed the unit charged with the Alram sector." He fell silent and his focus shifted to a point on the wall, beyond them. He slowly eased himself against the chair's back, turning slightly to rest his weight more on his right shoulder. Adama wondered if he'd been injured.

"My agents pursued shipping routes and money trails, tracing suppliers and backers we knew were in the colonies- businessmen, regional administrators…other government officials. I spent three years undercover in the sector, alone, infiltrating the operations, setting up situations to pit one leader against another, trying to collapse the organizations in on themselves…trying to stay one step ahead of being found out…" Castillo's voice dropped and he suddenly looked very tired. He lifted his right shoulder. "But, the day came when I was."

Adama's jaw tightened. Three years with no one to watch your back, no one to give you a hand, every day risking exposure and certain death. He suddenly understood a great deal more about Martin Castillo.

Laura Roslin closed her eyes, for a moment. "What happened?" she whispered.

"I was betrayed," he answered simply. "One of my men sold out. My cover was blown while I was deep in the sector and I had to run….and find a way to take fifteen children with me."

"Who were the children?" She caught his glance and held it.

"You were a teacher, weren't you?" Castillo asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her, almost as if sizing her up. Laura did not take offense- she had been just that for quite a number of years.

She nodded. "Yes. I was a teacher- elementary school."

"They were children bound for a pornography and prostitution arrangement near the Sagittarian and Caprican border." His fingers tightened on the arm of the chair, his knuckles whitening. "None were over the age of eight."

Feeling physically ill, Laura rested a hand against her cheek and took aslow breath. From beside her, sheheard Adama's growled curse.

"I could only get ten out." Castillo's voice was steady and firm, but Laura heard the anguish behind his words; she saw it in his eyes.

"I'm sure you did your best." Inadequate, but she knew nothing more to say.

"I left _five_ behind." His words rough, and he looked away. "We were being pursued and fired upon…we were taking hits- there was no time to go back for the others. They…they were depending on me and I was their only hope…"

Martin Castillo blamed himself. Laura knew the feeling only too well. She studied her own clenched hands, remembering anew her anguish over the decision to leave over a hundred thousand souls behind when the Cylons appeared. Their protests, curses,and cries still haunted her dreams.

"You did what you could-"

"It wasn't enough!"

"Sometimes, our best has to be enough," Adama answered quietly. "In extraordinary circumstances we do what we must to get through...to give hope for another day. It is all we _can_ do."

There was silence among the three until Adama spoke again. "How did you come to be with the fleet?"

Castillo took a deep breath and turned to the commander.

"I stole a ship in the sector as soon as I knew my cover was blown and with the help of the gods, I made it to a nearby base station with the children. Since I wasn't certain who had broken my cover, I couldn't trust the personnel, so I…arranged for the Lancer on my own." Castillo's hesitation told Adama and Laura that the lieutenant's arrangements most likely illegal ones. "We made it to Caprican space just as the fleet was jumping- got the coordinates from the last ship. We saw the arrival of the Cylons just before we jumped."

Seeing the tears forming in the president's eyes at the memory, Castillo looked away again. "We took a hit before we jumped. Five children were killed along with the Lancer's pilot. The copilot survived."

"I see," Adama replied quietly. "You've had flight training?"

Castillo nodded. "I'm fully qualified to fly most commercial non-bulk craft, as well as light military craft. I'm also trained to work with munitions and explosives, and electronics. I'm also proficient in other skills necessary for my line of work. If you wish, I will give you an accounting of them, but I'm sure you have an idea of what they are."

The man sitting across from him, Adama was willing to bet, could probably pick any lock, decipher most codes, break into all but the most protected of computer programs, and fight his way out of all but the most overwhelming of odds. The commander considered for a moment before speaking. He needed to know one more thing. "Earlier, after losing a large number of pilots, we requested those in the fleet with flight experience to contact the Galactica. Were you aware of this?"

"Yes."

Adama stared, waiting for Castillo to explain why he hadn't notified the Galactica. The lieutenant simply stared back at him.

The silence lengthened and Laura finally spoke up. "Lt. Castillo, I think what the commander is asking is why you didn't contact the Galactica."

"No, he asked if I was aware of the request," Castillo answered, turning away from Adama to look at her.

She thought Castillo sounded almost amused, but the commander certainly wasn't.

"Why didn't you contact the Galactica?" Adama ground out.

Castillo slowly brought his gaze back to meet the commander's, his jaw muscles tight. "I had five scared, ill and hurt children aboard with barely enough food for one small meal per person a day and next to no water."

"Food was passed out as quickly as-" Laura began.

The lieutenant sat forward in his chair. "We asked for help, pleaded, then _begged_, but got next to nothing. I will _not_ leave them. They are _my_ responsibility and I will see them fed and cared for."

Shaken, Laura continued, trying to explain. "Granted, we've had some difficulties in the beginning, but there is food enough for-"

"During the first handout, our portion disappeared before it reached us- all but six gallons of water and one box of packaged rations. A bigger portion of the next handouts made it to us, but nowhere near enough." It was with an effort that Castillo forced himself to relax. "We had to resort to other means to feed the children."

Laura tried to imagine what resources he could possibly come up with on a ship built for speed, not long trips. Those usually carried minimal stores. "What other provisions could you find?"

"I'm afraid I'm wanted for theft on several of the large pleasure craft," he answered wryly.

Adama snorted, not bothering to cover his laugh. "We do what we have to do, Lieutenant. Tell me what you need and I'll have it ready by the time you reach the hangar."

The tension broken, Laura thought it a good time to again bring up the reason for the meeting. "Lieutenant, we need your help."

"What is it you want of me?" Castillo was wary once again.

"As Commander Adama mentioned, we need a civilian-run law enforcement agency. While our situation is not ideal, our circumstances seem to be more stable now and we must begin setting up more services." Laura paused; the lieutenant's expression had become unreadable. If he refused now, they might never change his mind. "We would like to ask you to be in charge ofthe Enforcement Division."

Castillo did not answer and Laura decided to simply wait until he chose to. She settled back against the couch, hands folded in her lap. She was a patient women...when she needed to be.

* * *

Martin Castillo was not a man to rush into anything, but that was not to say that he could not act quickly when the need arose. The ability to rapidly assess a situation, review the options available, choose the best, and then act was one of his strengths and had saved his life -and the life of others- many a time. 

At first, when he received the messages from the president's office, he thought it had to do with his pilfering rations. He ignored it, reasoning that the makeshift government had bigger concerns and would forget about his minor thievery. He had simply been more careful the following week when he raided another ship on the pretext of recharging a spent battery.

Although it angered him to have to do so, for the most part stealing the rations had not been too difficult. They had merely asked permission to dock at a vessel's port for a maintenance issue then, while Captain Ahmal oversaw repairs, he would goin search of air-scrubbing canisters, a renewable andessential item every ship carried in excess. The case emptied of the filters, he would pick the lock to the supply area, fill the boxes with rations, and then truck the whole lot directly onto the Lancer without a second glance from anyone.

When necessary, they hadrepeated the ruse on another ship. He wondered what President Roslin would say if she knew he had, at one desperate moment, docked with Colonial One and relieved her stores of a week's worth of food and water, along with a small selection of cinema vids andone-third of the lower passenger compartment's stock of blankets and pillows. To feed and comfort the children, he would outright steal whatever they needed and do it without any hesitation or remorse.

From his escort showing him to the commander's quarters, he'd already ascertained where the Galactica's provisions were stored. Although he did not doubt his own skills, Castillo was not looking forward to breaking into the battlestar's supplies; the Galactica's securitywas a great deal tighter than that of the other ships.

Therefore, Adama's offer of assistance was a _very_ welcome one; their supplies were minimal and he needed to obtain more before they left. He was nearly certain he could trust the commander; as for the president, he was still unsure.

Because of uncertainty of whom to trust and of what would become of the children should anyone object to his caring for them, he limited contact between the Lancer and the rest of the fleet to what was absolutely necessary. He did, however, listen to what news came over the com and was aware the fleet was having problems with security. As if Cylons that looked human were not enough, there was the prison ship and it's inmates and their uprising to deal with.

"What exactly would you expect of me?" His shoulder beginning to ache, Castillo shifted in his seat. He was fairly sure he'd fractured his left collarbone and perhaps a rib or two when the compartment decompressed, but it was beginning to heal now. It bothered him infrequently, mainly from the muscles becoming stiff when he sat too long.

"I don't think your timewill be spent chasing petty thieves," Adama answered with a slight smile, "but, we do need someone to coordinate security issues with, particularly concerning identification of Cylon operatives."

"We have security concerns within the fleet, as well," the president added. Castillo's expression hardened.

"I will _not_ babysit the prisoners."

"We will not ask you to," she quickly replied. "They are earning their freedom and we anticipate the prison ship can be adapted to providing more space for those who are currently in cramped quarters."

"You plan to release the prisoners among the fleet?" he asked, in disbelief.

"Yes. They are survivors, just as you and I," Roslin replied firmly, her chin lifting.

"They are _criminals_."

"We cannot afford to keep several hundred of our able workers idle, Lieutenant."

Castillo turned to Adama. "Commander, do you agree with this?"

Adama crossed his arms. "It is the President's decision to make. I have serious reservations, however, and have made my concerns known."

The commander's expression left little doubt as to where he stood on the issue. Castillo's estimation of Adama went up a notch; the commander had sense. He looked back to Roslin.

"Ma'am, understand that releasing the prisoners _will_ create problems and the remedy will be difficult and unpleasant." Without giving her a chance to reply, the lieutenant stood. "I will consider your what you've said, but at the moment, I must return to the Lancer- two of the children are not well."

He turned to Adama, who'd come to his feet. "Sir, I appreciate your offer. We currently have only enough food and water to see us through the day after tomorrow."

Adama came to stand before him and offered his hand, which Castillo took. "You have my word, Lieutenant." Adama picked up the phone and spoke quietly; a moment later, Gaeta entered the room.

"Mr. Gaeta, the lieutenant has children on boardwho are in need of medical care. Please have Dr. Cottle meet Lt. Castillo at his ship. If the doctor is not aboard, send a medic. Also, personally see to whatever provisions he requests."

"Yes, sir," Gaeta replied, glancing at the lieutenant.

"Do you and the Lancer's captain have anyone to help with the children?" Roslin asked as Castillo turned to leave.

For a moment, he was tempted to lie and say there was another adult onboard, but decided against it. There were times when truthwas necessary. "No- just myself and Captain Ahmal."

"Then, perhaps, if Commander Adama does not object, you would consider staying aboard the Galactica for a while?" At Castillo's frown, she hurriedly continued. "It would give the doctor a chance to see to the children's needs and give you and the captain a much needed respite while we find assistance for you."

"Yes, please be our guest," Adama quickly agreed. "We can meet to discuss any questions you have and formulate a plan for your department, should you accept. Our resources are at your disposal." Castillo's expression remained guarded. "Mr. Gaeta will find temporary quarters that will allow you to be with the children. Please, allow us to help."

Castillo hesitated, but knew he had to trust them. The Lancer was need of repairs and he was concerned over the FTL drive's sluggish spin up. Too, despite his best efforts, his care of the children was not enough. They needed more than he could alone provide.

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Thank you."

He hoped he wasnot making a mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

_I don't own any part of Miami Vice or Battlestar Galactica, other than the DVDs, and I don't make any money or profit from this and no infringment of copyrights is intended._

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The Enforcement Agent 

Chapter 3

"Ma'am?" Billy approached her hesitantly. As her assistant, Billy Keikeya had virtually unlimited access to the president, but he disliked intruding when she appeared to be deep in thought, andthe gods knew Laura Roslin certainly had more than enough to occupy her thoughts these days. The president turned away from the blackness outside her porthole.

"Yes, what is it, Billy?" Laura straightened in her seat, pulling her sweater closer about her.

"You asked me to find someone with experience who could help with young children?"

"Yes, I did." Laura waited patiently for him to continue. Billy was still nervous around her, but had come a long way in a very short period of time. Too, she just did not have the energyto draw him out.

"I found someone."

"Very good. Thank you."

"She was studying to be a teacher," Billy added.

"Well, even better, then." Laura smiled, trying to overcome the sense of exhaustion she always seemed to feel. Damn the cancer.

"But, she didn't finish her degree," he continued.

Roslin gave him a tolerant look and then another smile. "I don't think we can be too picky about the details at this point, do you, Billy?"

"Uh, no, ma'am." His face reddened. "I'll contact the captain of the ship she's on and arrange a meeting."

"Thank you. Please see to it personally." She heard Billy move quietly away and Laura Roslin again turned to the window, lost in a myriad of losses and grief.

* * *

The transport, with a final whine from its engines and a faint shudder, touched down in the Galactica's cavernous bay. Giana Solner unclenched her hands and wiped them on her dirty skirt. More than anything, she hated flying. 

Born on Caprica, she grew up in a small farming village, the youngest daughter of three. Her father had grown apples and other fruits to sell and had fed his family from a huge garden. Giana loved life on the farm, but she loved school and learning even more. For the young, extremely shy girl, books opened up new worlds.

After finishing high school, she yearned to see more of the exciting places she'd read about. Her oldest sister, married and living on a station above the planet, had invited her to visit for a week and Giana had jumped at the chance.

Until the Cylon attack, thatoffworld visit had been the longest and worst week of her life. As soon as the transport to the station had fired its engines, Giana knew she was in trouble and that the situation wouldn't get better any time soon. She spent the entire two hour and seven minute flight with her eyes squeezed shut, fingernails dug deep in the seat's upholstery. The worst part was the knowledge she would have to go through it all again to get home.

Once there, things improved, slightly. The space station was large enough that if you didn't look out the view ports, you could almost pretend you were simply inside one of the huge Caprican City complexes. It's motion was evident, not nearly as bad as the transport's, but it was still disorienting and she had walked the hallways with one hand on the walls to steady herself, much to her sister's amusement.

Lora assured her the discomfort would pass after a day or two. It didn't, and Giana spent the rest of the week alternately vowing to never get further from the ground than the top of a ladder and dreading the trip home.

The new experience was not pleasant in the least, and there was little about the visit that she could recall fondly. She found she did not like being around the large groups of people that thronged the station, and the noise and activity was not what Giana was accustomed to. Being surrounded by metal and plastic felt alien to her. Without sunlight to warm her skin, she always felt cold. Moreover, the station had an unpleasant odor to it despite the scented antiseptics pumped into the air system.

During her week on the station, there was a hull rupture scare along with the base enduring two cycles on emergency power. It was more than enough excitement and adventure for Giana. She longed for Redbank and it's hushed shady lanes and sun-drenched fields.

Once back on Caprica, she immediately returned to the quiet village and enrolled in the local community college, thankful to be away from crowds and grateful to have her feet firmly on the soil. She had resolved then and there to never leave Caprica again and to avoid the big city and anything that might bring disorder to her simple life.

With a slight whoosh, the hatch opened and light flooded the transport's compartment.

"Welcome to the Galactica, Miss Solner. I'm Lt. Gaeta, your escort."

The man offered a hand in assistance and she took it, unsure of her legs. At the bottom of the short ramp, Giana stood still, eyes shut, waiting for the queasy feeling to shift to lightheadedness.

To her relief, she felt nothing but solid floor beneath her.

"Are we moving?" she asked, opening her eyes.

The young man smiled, amused. "Yes, ma'am. But, we're cruising slowly to give several smaller ships a chance to recharge batteries, so our speed is only eight hundred twenty-two times the speed of sound."

"Oh." Giana looked around the huge hanger. "It doesn't feel like it."

"The Galactica's very large and her gravity field is smooth- no gaps like you find on the smaller commercial ships," he explained. "You might feel a slight sensation when the ship banks hard, but not much."

"I see." She took a tentative step away from the railing.

After a few more steps, she felt much better. In fact, she felt almost normal for the first time since the Cylon attack.

When the attacks had begun, she had been in a park several miles from her village, near a residential area favored by the wealthy of Caprica City who wished to live near the large lake bordering it. While only a passable artist, Giana enjoyed spending time alone with her sketchbook and pencils, drawing and daydreaming whileenjoying the gifts of nature the gods had given them. The day had been a beautiful one.

Her sisters and their families were at the farmhouse, preparing for a party to celebrate her father and mother's thirty-second wedding anniversary. She should have been there helping, but the day was too pleasant to spend indoors so she had stolen a couple hours for herself to enjoy the last weekend before classes commenced.

It was her final year, and she was looking forward to graduating the following spring and teaching in her own classroom. She had come from an interview at the Regional Education Administration building with the personnel director and the principal of the small school in the village. Giana was pleased; she had been offered a part-time position as an assistant to the first grade teacher, two days a week, as her schedule allowed. The money would help pay off students loans as well as give her classroom experience.

Few wanted to teach in what was considered an isolated and backward community, but to her, it was idyllic. All she needed was to meet a good man, marry, and have several children. To that end, criteria for a husband were simple. He had to be gainfully employed, of good character, and a man who appreciated calm and predictability. Excitement was not something Giana yearned for. She would, she knew, most likely marry one of the local farmers' sons and was quite content at the thought…so long as she loved him.

With a flash, the afternoon calm had been shattered as multiple blasts lit the sky with a brightness she'd never seen. Giana had run as fast as she could to the hilltop giving her a view of the valley, and then stood staring in disbelief and shock. For miles, there was exploded earth. Frantically, she scanned the area for where her father's farm had been and found it, its position now only recognizable by the curve of the river it had abutted. There was nothing left of any of the other farms, nothing left of the valley or village. Her family was gone- everything that had made up her whole world was gone.

In shock, Giana had walked aimlessly until meeting up with other survivors. The group had wandered the area, always moving away from the fires and flashes until someone spotted the small airship. It was that very airship, a Raptor from the Galactica, which had saved her and brought her to the fleet. By lottery, five people were chosen. She had been one of the fortunate.

On the flight away from Caprica, images and echoes of her family had filled her thoughts as she sat in a corner of the small craft, numb with grief and disbelief. The following days, with their endless jumps and conflicts, had been one unending nightmare that continued to spill over into her dreams and waking moments.

She had been on the Galactica briefly at their return, but remembered little of it. Scared and exhausted, Giana recalled only the group's being hurriedly transferred to a ship where she was assigned to cramped quarters with three other women.

While thankful to be alive, she found the past weeks, with absolutely nothing to do but think of what had occurred and worry over what might yet come, to be nearly unbearable. News and rumors of Cylon attacks tore through the ship and the ensuing difficulties with water, fuel, and food gave her little hope they would survive. It was as if they were waiting for the end to come to them- as if they were waiting to die. There were moments when she would have welcomed death.

Yesterday, when told she was needed to assist in taking care of several children, she was overjoyed and had accepted the job immediately. Caring for five children sounded wonderfully normal. In this position, surely nothing more exciting than the occasional spilled water or temper tantrum could happen and it would give her a chance to fill her mind with the needs of others.

Finding herself lost after the third turn in the busy hallways, Giana hurried along, careful to stay at Lt. Gaeta's side. After descending several decks, they stopped at a doorway that looked exactly like every other doorway they had passed.

"We are pressed for time, so I'm taking you here first, but afterwards I'll show you to where you can freshen up before meeting the children."

The lieutenant's words held no trace of disapproval, but Giana knew she looked a mess. Washing was difficult as water was rationed and supplies were limited. Their infrequent and inadequate bathing opportunities were not enough to ever get truly clean or remove the filthy residuethat seemed to cover everything due to the damaged air duct system. She had managed to shampoo her hair only once and feared she would have to cut her hair to get all the knots out.

Making matters worse, the skirt and jacket she'd purchased to wear to the interview the day of the attack was now stained and ripped, and she had no other clothes. Blinking back tears of humiliation, she tried not to think of the condition of her shoes.

"Commander Adama, President Roslin, and Lt. Castillo are in a meeting, but they asked that you be brought by to meet them as soon as you arrived."

"The President of the Colonies?" Giana's eyes widened. "Commander Adama?"

"Yes. They wish to see you." Gaeta yanked the door's lever and pushed it open. He waited for a moment to allow her to enter. She didn't move.

"Would you rather I go in first?" he asked. Giana nodded and squeaked something he took for a 'yes.' He smiled. "Sure. Follow me."

At the sound of the hatchway opening, the three people at the small, round table covered with papers looked up- a beautiful woman, a stern man in uniform, and a man dressed completely in black.

"Madam President, Commander Adama, Lt. Castillo….this is Miss Giana Solner." Lt. Gaeta motioned to his side. Seeing a frown cross Adama's face, he glanced around and found nothing but empty space beside him; his charge was still standing in the hallway on the other side of the hatch.

Embarrassed, he hurried to the doorway, motioning for her to come in. Giana hesitated and he held out his hand in encouragement. Suddenly aware everyone was staring at her she took a deep breath and tried to step over the hatchway, but stumbled. Lt. Gaeta quickly grabbed her arm.

"It's OK. These doors take some getting used to," he whispered, hauling her to her feet. She looked ready to faint, and Gaeta tried to cheer her with a joke. "Don't worry, President Roslin and Commander Adama rarely bite."

_The President and Commander Adama!_

This, Giana decided, was worse than any flight on a transport.

* * *

Laura Roslin slipped off her glasses, set down the papers, and turned her attention to Miss Solner. Dressed in a dirty, almost ragged suit, which was obviously the only clothing the young woman had, Giana Solner looked little more than a child to Laura. 

She was thin and dark circles rimmed her eyes. Loose about her shoulders, her brownish-blonde hair was in desperate need of a good brushing- and shampoo- and she wore pumps that were missing their heels had been repaired with silver duct tape.

Grief washed over the president for the young woman who had nothing more than the tattered clothes on her back. She sighed to herself. There was so much to do…so many that needed help.

Across the table, Adama and Castillo came to their feet. Two of the few remaining men with manners, Laura thought. Little did they know they made the girl more nervous by standing than had they simply stayed seated.

Attempting to put her at ease, Laura Roslin stood and smiled, hoping Giana did not faint or turn around and run. She seemed just as likely to do either.

Suddenly, the girl took a step back and looked as if she favored the idea of running. Laura quickly crossed the room to her side and linked her arm through Giana's. "Welcome, Miss Solner. I'm Laura Roslin and I would like to introduce Commander William Adama and Lt. Martin Castillo. Won't you please join us?"

With a gentle tug, the girl moved forward- one step.

"Miss Solner, welcome to the Galactica," Adama said kindly. Laura silently blessed the man.

"Thank you," Giana managed to whisper, her eyes downcast.

"I am grateful for your assistance, Miss Solner," Castillo said quietly, pulling out the chair beside him.

Giana lifted her gaze to the dark eyes of Martin Castillo…and could not speak.

* * *

An hour later found the lieutenant walking through the ship's maze of corridors with his new helper at his side. Giana's eyes widened as an alarm rang out in a nearby passageway, and a dozen staff dressed in silver protective suits rushed by. Other than moving aside to allow the response team room to pass, the crew in the crowded hallway ignored the event.

Martin Castillo looked at the woman beside him with concern. Jumping at every noise and movement, he doubted if Giana Solner was up to the position; the children seemed less frightened than she did. He did not have time to coddle her.

Busypiloting and seeing that the Lancer was in flying condition, Captain Ahmal was rarely involved with the children, so care of the children had fallen entirely to Castillo. Hesitant at first to leave them while on the Galactica, the lieutenant had quickly found that the young troops enjoyed the diversion of little children and were very careful with them. Their offers to tend to the boys and girls had helped him greatly in the past two days.

"Have you worked with children before, Miss Solner?" Castillo asked,as they walked to the quarters where his charges were being watched by several of the Galactica's pilots. He kept his tone light; perhaps she was simply nervous...or maybe it was he who scared her. It had happened before with women.

"Yes, I have," she answered barely loud enough for him to hear.

She offered nothing more and Castillo tried to think of something else to say. Smalltalk was _not_ one of his strengths; he would just as soon be silent rather than speak simply for the sake of talking. But, Giana Solner looked no more at ease now than she did when she first walked into the meeting room an hour ago, and he disliked seeing fear in her eyes. He did not want her to be afraid of him.

"Well, I can't say I have," he replied dryly.

Giana stole a quick look at him. "How have you managed?"

He shrugged. "As best as possible. It helped that the children were glad to be away from Alram. I don't think they even realize what's occurred with the Cylons."

"Let it stay that way," she sighed. "They are better off not knowing."

"You lost your family?" he asked softly, even though he was certain of the answer. Most people had at least some relatives to lose…unlike him.

"Yes. My family was at the farm- everyone in the valley...was gone. I…I was away from my home that day." She was silent for a moment, then seemed to gather her courage. "And you?"

Castillo shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, I have no immediate family. I was away for nearly three years, by myself, so…" So there had been no one he was involved with, either. His job had made personal relationships difficult and unwise.

She did not answer and he did not feel like forcing conversation or revealing more of himself, so he quietly studied her as they entered Officer's territory, where they had been given a room. Skinny, with long, thick hair, Giana Solner was nearly as tall as he. He couldn't tell if her skin tone was the result of ancestry or a life spent out in the sun, but her complexion was a little dark…or at least it appeared so. Maybe she simply needed a good wash.

Castillo understood. It was not until they docked at the Galactica had any of them been able to shower. Water was precious and there was little to use for unnecessary bathing. For his meeting with Roslin and Adama three days ago, he had used up an entire gallon trying to get the accumulated grime off his face and hands, and the stink of sweat and dried blood off his body.

When offered use of the self- recycling facilities of the Galactica, he'd jumped at it. Taking the three boys with them, he and Ahmal had spent a blissful half hour under two adjoining showers, scouring themselves and the boys clean from one end to the other…then scrubbing down once more. The chance to bathe so thoroughly might not come again for quite some time.

He'd had no trouble finding female crewmembers willing to take the two girls in hand. At least half a dozen led the pair away. Four hours later, the girls returned in clean clothes, with ribbons in their hair, polish on their fingernails, and flavored balm on their pink, smiling lips. Since then, the children had rarely been without the company of Galactica staff.

There were spare rooms on the Galactica since a fair portion of the ship's crew had departed for other assignments prior to the decommissioning ceremony. The remaining crew was not a skeletal one, but was still far short of the full complement ordinarily found on a battlestar.

There were always crewmembers around wanting to share their off-hours with the boys and girls, however he worried about when the time came for him to leave the Galactica.Hisnew responsibilities would require himmove about thefleet frequently.With Miss Solner to accompany him and help now, he had decided to take the children when he traveled. They were his responsibility; he would not leave them.

Settling on a list of priorities, approved by Commander Adama, he had worked out a schedule of visits to each ship of the fleet to brief the captains on security precautions and discuss their needs and particular situations. Foremost was the need to monitor transport activity between the ships. No one wanted a Cylon to have free range of the fleet and they could not afford to have another incident like before. An explosion on the engineering compartment or cockpit of a ship would be disastrous.

Once his first visits had been made, he would have a better idea of what needed to be changed and could set about making new policies. Enforcing the changes, however, was another matter. Adama had assured him of the military's support, but Castillo knew the commander was not eager to have his men continue as security for the fleet. Where, then, would he find his staff?

There were a few men in the fleet with enforcement experience, albeit limited. Those with more training had volunteered to be the president's guard. Would they and the others agree to help him? How could he provide back up for them if they did? Would Laura Roslin consent to prison for those who did not follow policies- and what would they use for a detention? The Galactica's brig was not designed to hold anyone for more than the time it took to reach a base, so that left only the prison ship.

Castillo wanted _nothing_ to do with the prison ship.

Roslin's plan to release the prisoners into the fleet was irresponsible and foolish. He wondered if President Roslin was aware of the crimes the prisoners had committed. It was not a low-security vessel; the ship was carrying dangerous criminals, not petty offenders, yet the president wanted them released! How, with limited authority and assistance, was he going to monitor and control those men once they disappeared among the scattered ships? There was _no_ possible way he could.

_It was going to be a nightmare!_

Castillo swore fiercely under his breath and struck out, angrily hitting his fist against the bulkhead. Beside him, Giana flinched and backed away to the far wall, eyes huge in alarm. Castillo groaned. He had forgotten about the young woman at his side.

The girl was absolutely terrified. The dirt on her face was in stark contrast to the paleness of her skin and she looked as if she were going to burst into tears.

He had to say something- he had to explain before she took off running. "Look, it's all an absolute mess and I don't like it, yet-"

Giana fell back a step. "I know it's a mess, but I…I don't have anything better to wear." Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she swiped the heel of her hand across her face and sniffed. She looked down at her clothes, her voice catching as it rose higher and higher. "I'm sorry, but it's all I have. My shoes fell apart and I had to beg for tape to fix them and I don't have a comb because I lost my purse and there wasn't enough soap and water to wash and…"

Castillo stared at Giana, her words sinking in. Feeling every type of wretchedness, he crossed the hallway to her. "No, I didn't mean you. I wasn't talking about your clothes and shoes."

Calling more attention to her ragged attire did not help at all, and Giana cowered against the wall and started to cry in earnest.

"Miss Solner, I am very sorry you thought what I said had anything to do with you." Several crew members passed by, giving him foul looks. He stepped closer and touched her arm. "Giana, _please_, I was angry about _my_ situation- what _I_ must do. It had _nothing_ to do with you."

Giana rubbed her dirty sleeve under her nose. "You weren't mad at me- about my clothes and…" She motioned in the general direction of her hair.

"Not at all," he said, relieved she had stopped crying and was now only snuffling loudly. Miss Solner still looked upset, so Castillo thoughtfully added a few more words of comfort. "You can't help the way you look."

Castillo swore again, this time at himself, as Giana covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

The gods, Castillo hoped, would strike him dead where he stood if he _ever_ again tried to console a crying woman.

As gently as possible, he took Giana by the arm and dragged her down the hall to their quarters.

* * *

_For those who are not familiar with the characters, Martin Castillo was the reticent, mysterious Vice section commander on Miami Vice and was played by Edward James Olmos...who now plays Commander Adama.There's another connection in the story, too. _

_I have a general idea where this is going, so will let this play about in my head and see if I can work out exactly how I want the story to proceed. It might be a while, though! Hope you enjoyed at least this part of it. (-:_


End file.
